


Toast

by MeansToOffend (goodmorning)



Series: Pick Me Up [19]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017-2018 NHL Season, M/M, New Jersey Devils, Pick-Up Lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 07:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorning/pseuds/MeansToOffend
Summary: "Hallsy knows he’s kind of an idiot - people on Twitter still ask him about his boating licence, and Whits texts him banana split pictures nearly every month - but he’s also not as dumb as everyone thinks he is."





	Toast

Hallsy knows he’s kind of an idiot - people on Twitter still ask him about his boating licence, and Whits texts him banana split pictures nearly every month - but he’s also not as dumb as everyone thinks he is. See, Hallsy may not be so good with words, but he’s great at patterns. It’s part of what makes him good at hockey, being able to read where people are going to go and what they’ll do when they get there by the angle of a stick, the position of a skate, the knowledge of what they’ve done before and the moves they favour the most. It also makes him good at reading people off the ice, makes him a little more able to guess when a frown is a frown and when it’s just a front for a smile. And, of course, there’s this one little pattern that keeps following him around, even to New Jersey:

Hallsy is a fucking lottery ball specialist, a good luck charm for any bottom-half team that has him, and he has this pretty much confirmed for him when the Devils win the fucking lottery. He’s at home in Calgary when they announce it, of course, but, like, holy shit. Another first overall, maybe even one who can centre him, even at eighteen, because it’s not like the Devils don’t need help scoring goals.

Actually he has no idea who’s projected to go first overall, but it’s probably a centre, because it’s almost always a centre these days. When he looks it up he feels weirdly smug about being right, since it’s only a competition with himself, but he’s also wrong, because it’s not one centre but two. There’s not much between them in the numbers but size, and Hallsy has never really bought into the idea that size matters all that much. There’s not much between them in the grainy pictures on their eliteprospects pages, either, just two kids, faces stained red by cold air and exertion, nothing visible to sway Hallsy in one direction or the other. So he figures it doesn’t matter too much which one they end up picking.

This, as it turns out, is wrong.

He watches the draft, out of curiosity more than anything, and it cuts to a split-screen look at the two of them as Shero gets up on the stage. The Canadian kid looks like he knows some shit, hair slicked back and face like he’s been around a time or two, and Hallsy is pretty into it right up until he looks at the Swiss kid and kind of stops breathing, because he looks like he belongs on the set of Teen Wolf or something instead of at the draft, and he’ll deny it every day if he has to but secretly Hallsy can admit to himself that he kind of has a type, and that type has oddly bushy eyebrows. So when Shero says “Nico Hischier,” it’s pretty exciting, actually.

Hallsy is knee-deep in planning how to ask him out when they cut to an interview with him and _his accent_. He’s never been this into an accent before, but right now it’s almost too distracting, keeping him from - right, Hallsy is trying to figure out the best way to get into his pants, how could he forget?

\--

Step one: Meet him, make sure he’s not a terrible person, and find out how he feels about dicks. Not dicks like people who are rude and awful, but dicks, like, touching other people’s dicks, and other people’s dicks touching him, and all that stuff.

Unless he likes people who are rude and awful. Hallsy’s never really been like that in a relationship before, but he could try if that’s really what he’s into.

\--

Actually, it turns out that Hisch is really sweet most of the time, except when he’s countering chirps with his wicked sense of humour, which is ridiculously unfair, seriously. Also, while he’s meticulously polite to everyone, he’s pretty obviously super distant to people who are rude to them in the street or whatever. That’s a pretty huge relief to Hallsy, honestly, because he’s pretty sure he grew out of his dick phase like five years ago at least, and he’s not really sure he could be like that now.

So the question is, does Hisch have any interest in dudes?

In the end, Hallsy doesn’t really have a strategy for this, because it’s not the kind of thing he can just ask. If Hisch isn’t into dudes he’d probably be all fragile and offended by it, and if he is he’d probably be worried that _Hallsy_ would be all fragile and offended by it. In the end he does the only thing he can really think of:

“Hey, so, just wanted to let you know, so you won’t be surprised, but I kind of pick up dudes sometimes.” That’s… mostly a lie, to be honest. Hallsy barely picks up anyone now, because he’s not twenty anymore and is kind of looking for a relationship more than a fling, and when he _does_ pick up it’s usually women, because he’s too old for a repeat of the Black Eye Incident of Twenty-Ten these days. But it used to be true, and it feels less awkward than just straight-up coming out, so.

Hisch looks confused. “Pick up? Like, you go home with them, or…?”

“Yep,” Hallsy says, and Hisch’s eyebrows do something complicated and kind of hopelessly endearing. 

“I like men, too,” Hisch says, looking at him suspiciously.

It’s a fair reaction, and Hallsy doesn’t even have to try not to be offended because he’s _so pumped._ “Fucking sweet!” he says, holding out his fist.

“Fucking sweet,” Hisch agrees, and bumps it.

\--

Step two: Figure out if he could be into Hallsy specifically. Hallsy really doesn’t think of himself as bad-looking, but everyone has their own taste.

\--

This is actually even easier than the first step, because Hallsy may be kind of an idiot, but he does remember a lot of the shit that people say to him, whether it’s nice or not, and a lot from both sides seems to centre on his lips, which people have called “plush” and “pillowy” and “ _oh my god,_ ” along with their being a target for homophobic insults on and off the ice.

Ideally, of course, Hisch likes him for his personality too, but Hallsy will take what he can get at this point, even if it’s just, like, friend sex. He’s not naive, he’s heard the song, he knows you can’t always get what you want, and Hisch is eighteen, so it’s not likely that they’re looking for the same type of relationship at this point, it’s fine.

Anyway it’s obvious Hisch is into him, because Hallsy makes a point of biting his lip or doing the “sticking my tongue out because I’m thinking so hard” thing whenever they talk, and the way Hisch’s eyes linger, the way he mirrors Hallsy, licking his own lips in response, the way his stance shifts, they all say there’s some kind of interest there. So that’s that, then.

\--

Step three: Ask him if he’s down to date or fuck or whatever. But better than that.

\--

“So,” Hallsy says, waiting for Hisch after practice, “you know about the whole first overall thing, right?”

\--

 _Step three: Ask him if he’s down to-_

\--

“What first overall thing?”

\--

 _STEP THREE:_

\--

“Well, you know, if two first overall picks end up on the same team, they’re supposed to, you know, fuck, and stuff. Did nobody tell you?”

“Very funny, Hallsy,” Hisch says, a little angrier than Hallsy expects.

“Dude, it’s a luck thing, why do you think Davo broke his collarbone?”

“Sure,” Hisch says, and walks away. He doesn’t look back.

\--

Step four: You fucked up.

\--

Okay, Hallsy is definitely an idiot after that one, but he’s still good with numbers. After games, he likes to check his stats, to see if they match how he feels, and if they’re better or worse than he expects, he likes trying to figure out why. He still hasn’t figured out why Hisch- but no.

This kind of self-analysis would definitely never have occurred to him when he was eighteen and obviously perfect and who needs numbers anyway, but he does it now because it’s not only helpful but fun, and if Woody and Pickles follow suit, he can only say he’s glad of the company. Normally Hisch would join them, too, but apparently he’s still avoiding Hallsy. It’s pretty depressing, honestly.

So December really isn’t their month, with Hisch not talking any more than he has to and Hallsy getting injured midway through. Besides that, Christmas is coming up, and he has to tell his mother that he won’t be home this year. “I’m actually going to stay here and hang out with Hisch,” he finds himself saying. He’s not actually sure if it’s true, but he adds, “Christmas is kind of a big deal in Switzerland, and-”

“It’s a long flight, too,” his mother says, and he’s not sure if she means for him or for Hisch, so he just hums in agreement and settles in for a long conversation. But she surprises him. “Well, video call us on the day, okay? We still want to see your face even if you can’t be here.”

“Sure, mom,” he says, feeling ridiculously glad that she’s so understanding.

“Oh, and I can’t wait to see your decorations!” They say their I love yous and goodbyes and hang up. Hallsy drops his phone on a decorative pillow.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says, throwing himself dramatically onto his couch.

\--

Actually, the decorating isn’t so bad. He just gets a tree and some cheap ornaments, a couple strings of lights for it and some nice candles for the dining table, and it only takes him like half an hour to set it up.

Then it’s just asking Hisch to come over, which- okay, no plans.

“I’m sorry,” is how he starts, and Hisch crosses his arms but doesn’t leave. “And I think we should talk more about it, but also I’m staying here for Christmas and wasn’t sure if you were going to be alone…?”

“You’re inviting me to spend Christmas with you?” Hisch snorts, shaking his head like he can’t believe what an idiot Hallsy is, which- has he not heard about the boating licence?

“Please?” Hallsy asks, and Hisch’s face softens a little.

“Yeah, alright,” he says. “So what should I bring?”

\--

Hallsy goes home, frantically Googles “Swiss Christmas,” then frantically runs to the store to buy wine and spices, and pretty much doesn’t sleep for trying to do math in his head - when to put the ham in, with the temperature changes he’ll have to make with other stuff coming in and out of the oven, worrying about whether everything will be ruined, so he’s kind of a mess by the time Hisch shows up the next day.

Hisch takes in the tree, sees the dining room table laid out with fancy candles and all, sniffs the air wonderingly. “You made glühwein? What is this?”

“Christmas, and also an apology,” Hallsy says. “Sorry.”

“You apologised already,” Hisch says, and sighs. “I’m sorry, too, for assuming you made up the first overall thing to make a joke out of my feelings.”

“Feelings?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you out, but you only seemed interested in sex, so I thought you were trying to tell me that it wasn’t going to happen.”

“Oh my god,” Hallsy says, “I’m such an idiot. I only said that because I thought you wouldn’t want to date me.”

“Why would I not?”

“Hisch, you’re so hot, if you ate bread you’d shit toast, and you’re nice, and funny, and young, and I’m an idiot, so-”

Hisch kisses him, stopping his words. “Well then,” he says, stepping back and grinning at Hallsy, dangerous enough to stop hearts, “for our first date, maybe we should try the glühwein.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- This was the second prompt I assigned to a team because who else but Taylor Hall would break out a line that dumb? And then the story went in an entirely different direction than I thought it would.  
> \- [Relevant Tweet.](http://twitter.com/DrewMacFarlane/status/979145463915077632)  
> \- Taylor Hall, of all people, knowing what Corsi is and somewhat embracing it has literally killed me.  
> \- Merry Swissmas to all, and to all a good night.  
> \- I will leave it up to you to decide if the first overall thing is real or not.  
> \- Epilogue: Hallsy calls home drunk as fuck off mulled wine with Hisch giggling in the background; his mother tactfully doesn't mention, when his shirt rides down, the suspicious bruise she sees there.


End file.
